


Room in Stepney

by Beezarre (Dibee)



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Room in Rome AU, and symbolism too for good measure, in which I use way too many metaphors again, with links to the ost because Wow!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dibee/pseuds/Beezarre
Summary: Two strangers meet in Stepney on the shortest night of the year. This night is their last before they go back to their respective lives, a parenthesis, a secret to be kept between the two of them.As the night unfolds so do their stories, the ones they tell, and the ones they don't. Eye to eye, skin to skin, questions and eyebrows raised, barriers lowered, they bare all in their makeshift theatre, slowly abandoning the roles they were trying to play.





	Room in Stepney

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to Daisydoctor13, although I’ve been made to understand that this ought to be posthumous thanks because making her read this killed her. You have been warned!
> 
> I’m not exactly sure why I thought this was a good idea. I don’t remember how the idea came to me, I do, however, remember rewatching the movie and telling myself every two minutes ‘I can never make this work’...
> 
> I don't know how many chapters this will take, nor how long, but I can promise that it'll live up to its rating soon enough!
> 
> I’ve obviously taken some, okay a lot of, liberties, adapted the plot to their personalities, and done away with some cringe-y scenes. (No room service!) Enjoy!

 

**A room with a view**

 

> **["Loving Strangers" (Russian Red, Room in Rome OST)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgbcXig1TZ8) **

 

They walked side by side, almost pressed together as they avoided people exiting the neighbouring bars in small groups. Even when the coast was clear they remained close without the need for an excuse, already reluctant to part. They laughed, more freely than Serena remembered having laughed in a long time. It felt good, simple, a nice ending to an evening that had started like a proper disaster.

 

After a long day of meetings in unfamiliar territory, she had found herself having a row with her daughter. Not the first, most likely not the last either, but enough to further dampen her mood.

 

She had found the bar by happenstance, found a booth not too close to the boisterous party of ten who seemed to have something worth celebrating, and had stared at her wine glass for a long time before daring to try it. The Shiraz was good, that was something.

 

As she had been starting to see the bottom of her glass, she had been presented with another. She had rolled her eyes when the waiter had told her it had been ordered by someone else, craning her neck slightly to follow his gaze, surprised to see a woman her age, raising her glass and holding her gaze for a second before going back to what Serena supposed was whisky. Curious, she had gone over, perched on the next stool, and actually socialised with someone outside from work for the first time in longer than she was willing to admit.

 

 The stranger was beautiful in an almost painful way, the warm lighting of the bar outlined her face and her eyes sparkled when she smiled. Serena wouldn’t have normally noticed that kind of detail but there was something about the stranger that drew Serena to her.

 

Bernie, short for Bernadette, she learned, a name she disliked, something Serena could understand, was also heading home the next day. “One last night away.” Serena thought there was a hint of flirting in her voice, but it was probably the wine.

 

She hadn’t given her her real name, she wasn’t quite sure why, as if this parenthesis was something illicit. She wasn’t sure who she was hiding from, Bernie, herself, or whoever might have been eavesdropping. Serena disliked her own middle name, but it sounded so soft in Bernie’s mouth that she felt she had made the right choice. Whatever this was, she was more than Serena tonight.

 

*

 

Bernie had been hoping to lift her spirits with spirits, with mixed results, when she had spotted the gorgeous brunette deep in thought a few booths over. Well, no, if she were honest with herself, she had had her eye on her from the second she had walked into the bar, but part of her had expected her to be joined by a man sooner or later.

 

Once it was clear that she wasn’t expecting anyone, with her glass almost empty, she had ordered her a refill, on a whim. Why? She wouldn’t be able to say exactly. Because it might buy her some more time to observe her, the way she moved mesmerising her. She had most certainly not expected the stranger to come and sit beside her.

 

 She was even more stunning up close, was clever, funny, and everything Bernie liked. She was also straight, Bernie suspected, and yet there was something in the way the stranger reacted to her that made her wonder just how straight she really was, or rather whether she didn’t have even just the silver of a chance. And even if she did, would she take it?

 

Offering her name had been automatic; she wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t given her real first name. It was as if part of her wanted to keep it a secret, an extra wall to protect herself from the stranger’s charm. She had made a joke on Wendy attempting not to grow up, and the stranger had rolled her eyes, having clearly heard it before, before pointing out to their glasses.

 

“Well, it’s just grape juice.”

 

Bernie had shrugged playfully, the look of mock-shock on the stranger’s face a sight to behold. Was it when she decided she would try her luck if an opening presented itself? Or was that when the stranger’s laugh that followed made her laugh too, a sound she was almost surprised to hear again. It had been a long time since she had laughed like that.

 

They had headed out in the same direction. They would have to part ways, eventually. They weren’t in a hurry, playfully bumping into one another, something between them.

 

“That’s my hotel.” Bernie had pointed at the building now in front of them.

 

“Mine is that way.” Serena had gestured toward one end of the street, in no hurry to part.

 

“One last drink?” It had been spontaneous, she hadn’t thought it out, about to backtrack, thinking better of it. She could see the stranger was hesitating, hoping she could be swayed, even if all she got out of it was to spend just a little more time with her, see her in a new light.

 

“We’ve had plenty already.” ‘Wendy’s’ answer was a logical one, but neither of them were even tipsy, knowing their limits, having talked animatedly enough that they’d forgotten about their glasses and their contents. She didn’t sound too convinced, either.

 

Bernie gave her pleading eyes that made Serena smile and shake her head. That look had yet to fail her.

 

“We’ve only talked about London.” Bernie’s voice, low and soft, suddenly felt more intimate.

 

“It’s an amazing place.” The other woman was looking at Bernie a little too intently for the compliment not to be meant for her.

 

“There’s more to life than London,” Bernie insisted. She felt rusty as she stepped slightly closer. The stranger didn’t move. When was the last time she had actually flirted with anyone? What was it about that woman that made her even consider this?

 

Suddenly emboldened, Bernie took her hand, tugging lightly. The stranger playfully tugged in the other direction, both resisting, but mostly enjoying their little game and the warm skin against theirs.

 

"If you keep pulling, you'll win, and we'll end up in your hotel.” Bernie’s eyes were twinkling from under her fringe. Neither of them wanted to let go. They spent a few seconds searching the other’s eyes before the brunette spoke again.

 

“Ok, fine.” The stranger smiled and Bernie beamed, leading the way to the door, the other woman just a step behind her. She had felt the loss of warmth when she had had to let her hand go to find the keys. Bernie opened the door and let her in, watching her as she stepped into the room.

 

*

 

“Drink?” Bernie’s question took her by surprise, engrossed in her careful study of the room. She wasn’t sure what the overall theme was supposed to be, there were masks on the walls, a calligraphy quote, a painting she couldn’t quite recognise, and the beautiful stranger bent forward to peek in the minibar, showing Serena a new angle she quite liked.

 

“Wine?” Bernie had spoken again, her voice smooth, like a caress she felt she was encouraging. Serena nodded her thanks as Bernie passed her the small bottle she had opened for her.

 

She cocked her head to the side, gesturing toward the balcony, and Serena followed. From there they could see the street and its slow bustle but they were still in their bubble above the crowd, just the two of them. The silence was comfortable but Serena ached to break it.

 

“Tonight is the first night of summer.” She saw Bernie nod thoughtfully.

 

“And the eve of life beginning again.” Serena suspected Bernie hadn’t meant to voice her thought, but she nodded in agreement. London had been a parenthesis, but while she had wished, practically every second of these past days, to be able to head back home, she wasn’t in such a hurry anymore.

 

*

 

“This is the shortest night of the year.” Bernie felt like she was miles away from this little balcony, miles away from this place, and yet the stranger anchored her there. “We have to make the most of it.”

 

 Her hand had been on the railing, they were about to meet in the middle when she turned toward her guest who stepped forward, as if drawn to her. Bernie knew she herself was. After looking for, what, confirmation, consent, understanding, something in her eyes, Bernie bridged the gap between them and kissed her, gently enough not to scare her, but firmly enough to let her know she meant business. Well, pleasure.

 

They stopped, nose to nose, and Bernie let her initiate the next kiss. She instinctively reached for her waist, wincing when she felt her tense and take a step back.

 

“I’m not…”

 

And there it was. Bernie was trying as hard as she could not to let her face fall, couldn’t see from the stranger’s expression whether it was working on not.

 

“Not what?” It wasn’t an accusation, but a genuine question. Whatever ‘Wendy’ thought she wasn’t, her readiness to kiss her showed that, if anything, she was open to experimentation.

 

“You’re a woman.” That was something Bernie couldn’t deny.

 

“Well spotted.” There was a bit of a smirk on Bernie’s lips, and she was surprised to see her guest smile in response, before going back to seriousness.

 

“It’s the first time of my life I look like this at a woman.” Serena paused, Bernie looking at her intently. “And I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman look at me this way before.”

 

Serena knew she was wrong the second the words passed her lips, but couldn't help pushing, afraid by her own boldness, something her younger self wouldn't have dared do, or maybe because her younger self wouldn't have gone there. Bernie raised her eyebrow in a silent attempt to express just how unlikely she thought that was.

 

“You have though.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Been with a woman before.” Serena’s voice was steady, Bernie had the feeling she was a little closer than she had been a minute before.

 

“Yes. But every woman is different. That’s the beauty of it, really. You could… You could go on a beautiful beach, sit down every evening, and you’d never see the same sunset twice, but they’re all beautiful, and special, even if it’s raining.” Bernie paused, seemingly surprised by her sudden lyricism.

 

“I haven’t seen that many sunsets.” Bernie’s addition was candid, simple, and made Serena smile. “But if anything it’s made me want to cherish every single one of them that much more.”

 

“What would men be in that metaphor?” Serena’s question surprised Bernie who frowned and thought for a second.

 

“Storms,” she decided.

 

“Storms?”

 

“Yes, storms. They keep getting in the way of sunsets, they leave you feeling like crap. Some are better than others, I suppose, every cloud has a silver lining and all that. But sometimes you really, really have to squint.”

 

Serena laughed, she liked that idea, wondered what kind of storm some of the men in her life would be, and chose to think about that later. They did get in the way of sunsets, and this one was truly spectacular.

 

She was mesmerised, and decided to trust her instincts. Bernie was a woman, yes, and then what? She was beautiful, smart, witty, and if a kiss had electrified her that much, Serena dreaded to think what would happen if she allowed Bernie to touch her.

 

 

Moved by a sudden urge to do something, linger, quieten her doubts, she extended her hand and gently ran her fingers along Bernie’s collarbones, revealed by her shirt whose first few buttons had been left undone. She suddenly wondered if she was wearing anything underneath it.

 

Serena hadn’t changed after her last meeting, the red blouse was draped over a light top in the hopes of surviving the overheated meeting room, her trousers straight, black, meant business. The stranger was wearing sinfully fitted jeans that made her mouth dry. Serena suddenly regretted her choice of plain underwear. She knew where this was going, where she wanted this to go.

 

What was it about this woman, her soft eyes, thin lips curling up, and messy fringe… She got the urge to brush it out of her eyes. She took the long way up from the collarbones, hesitant, still, repressing a shiver when she explored her neck, outlined her jaw, and framed her face, getting lost in her eyes, feeling the weight of what she had mistaken for common sense lift off her shoulders. She wanted this, there was no denying it.

 

She wanted to see her naked, she realised, wanted to feel the stranger’s eyes on her own body, afraid of what she might see there, her confidence boosted by the desire in Bernie’s eyes. The way she looked at her made Serena feel more confident than… actually she couldn’t remember when a lover had last made her feel like this. Maybe it was because she was a woman, or maybe there was something about her that struck a chord.

 

It felt as if they didn’t need words to understand one another. Serena wondered just how much of the conversation in the bar had been spoken, how much of it had been the silent agreement of two people with the same train of thought.

 

 For now, she had a feeling Bernie was thinking the same thing she was. She wouldn’t make a move though, Serena was sure of it. What was she supposed to do, or say? “Would you like to see me naked?” That wouldn’t work. Well, it might, but it wasn’t what she was going for.

 

For now, taking a swig of wine in an attempt to regain countenance after her plunge in the stranger’s eyes, words felt lacking. She had a feeling Bernie was a woman of few words. She made up for it by being a fantastical kisser. Leaving the small bottle aside, Serena let herself melt in her arms, not pushing her away when her hands rested on her hips.

 

“You’re gorgeous.” She would have missed Bernie’s words if she hadn’t whispered them almost on her lips, meeting her eyes with desire mixed with a deference that made the butterflies in her stomach turn to bats and hang on for dear life with sharp claws that stole her breath away. In that moment, she felt confident enough.

 

“You can talk.” She had almost growled the words, making Bernie chuckle before her breath hitched when Serena let her hands travel up her sides.

 

This felt like a tennis game, and Bernie knew the ball was in her court, but she was being seriously distracted by the player in front of her, biting her lip and looking at her with renewed fervour. She wanted to see more of her. Just a little bit more.

 

Kissing her neck, she opened one button of her blouse. Serena didn’t stop her. Bernie opened one more, then another one, and was met with the outline of the top. Serena swiftly removed every other button, shedding her blouse and kissing her, heated and languorous. Bernie wasn’t sure which of them had moaned into the kiss, nor how long it had lasted.

 

One of Bernie’s hands in hers, the bottle in the other, Serena led them back inside, letting the thick drape obscure the light.

 

*

 

Bernie bit her lip, this felt surreal. ‘Wendy’ taking the lead was a surprise, a confirmation of the strength Bernie had glimpsed through their conversation. She had let the bottle down, waiting, in control despite no doubt feeling exposed. Bernie approached slowly, taking in every detail, her breathing, her skin, the softness of the material of her top, and how she shivered when she slowly peeled it off.

 

She broke eye contact to take her in, pained to see a flicker of self-doubt when she looked up again. She stepped closer to work on her belt, close enough to whisper in her ear without their bodies touching, her hair brushing past the woman’s cheek.

 

The trousers hit the floor softly, Bernie letting out a small laugh when Serena removed her shoes and revealed the height difference, eyes and lips flickering close, without quite kissing. Bernie took a moment to look at her, really look, and let her face show just how much she liked what she was seeing.

 

She was debating whether to let the other woman undress her or start on her bra when Serena undid the clasp herself, letting Bernie let the straps slide along her arms and onto the floor. There was a slightly smug look on the woman’s face now as Bernie didn’t seem to be able to keep neither her eyes nor her hands off her. She stepped closer, nodding her assent, eyes locked even as Serena stepped out of her underwear.

 

*

 

As a doctor, Serena had seen many bodies. She knew how they worked, had repaired more than she could count, seen enough broken ones that she knew how frail human beings really were.

 

This was a whole other kind of discovery, and nothing she knew would help her feel less overwhelmed as her usually steady hands trembled slightly when she started on Bernie’s shirt buttons.

 

Feeling Bernie’s eyes on her wasn’t helping, or maybe it was. She didn’t feel as exposed as she would have thought.  Bernie’s fingers joined hers as she struggled just a couple buttons away from the bottom of her shirt, her usual surgical precision gone the second the shirt had revealed more skin, as pale and tempting as the rest.

 

Part of her wanted, needed, to slow down, but a deeper, more insistent part was begging her to let go, enjoy every thrill and every shiver, bask in the moment while it lasted.

 

She was torn, playing with the waist of Bernie’s jeans more than she was really trying to open it. There was no way she’d ever manage to get it off her without help. She wondered how long it took her in the morning to fit in them. She suspected only seconds, but pictured a lot longer, and had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Bernie hopping her way through wherever she lived to try and adjust them.

 

“What?” She met Bernie’s eyes and saw she was as amused as her.

 

“Nothing, nothing. You’re going to have to give me a hand here.”

 

Serena realised the second her words had passed her lips that that had been a questionable turn of phrase. Bernie looked like she was about to tease her for it but just did as she was told, probably slower than strictly necessary. Serena suddenly noticed some scars, here and there, and promptly shut down the medical side of her brain. Now was not the time.

 

She ran her fingers along the edge of the plain white bra until she reached the clasp, effectively pressing them together, a shiver running down her spine. There was barely any space left between their lips, but she resisted the urge to kiss her. She saw Bernie bite her lip when she slid her fingers under the elastic of her underwear and raised a questioning eyebrow. She was met with fire rather than doubt, and felt her own burn a little brighter.

 

An awkward dance of push and pull led Serena to the desk, her hands on Bernie’s hips encouraging her forward. She rolled her head back when she felt one of Bernie’s legs between hers and her lips on her neck. She tried to retaliate and was repaid by a gentle nibble. She kissed her as soon as the angle was right, pushing her backward this time until they rolled on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

 

*

 

 “You’re strong, I like that.” Serena’s husky voice, and her hands running along her arms and legs, made Bernie’s brain short circuit. What was it about her that made her so… fascinating? She started an exploration of her own. They had all night, or at least she hoped they did, but she wanted to be as thorough as possible.

 

She felt her arch into her touch and kissed her, swallowing her moan when she ran her thumb over a nipple, another when she ran her hand up her spine. There was something in the way Serena was exploring her own body that made her want to offer herself just that much more. She was shy but bold, soft but firm, a mosaic Bernie liked a little bit more with every tile she discovered.

 

*

 

Serena felt Bernie’s hand on her thigh, tentatively spreading her fingers upward, and she tensed. The blonde got the message, traced a meandrous path along the outside of her thigh, past her hip, settling on her waist, testing her reaction. Serena realised she was in over her head, but hadn’t needed to voice it. The kiss that followed was light, exploratory yet chaste, comfortable but not enough to calm Serena’s racing heart or reeling mind.

 

Bernie’s hand had relocated to her jaw. Serena mirrored her movement. This was too much, too fast, a folly she couldn’t believe she had gone for, yet she didn’t want to leave, not like this, not just yet. She felt Bernie move, drawing the sheets that were folded at the foot of the bed over them, just a little past their waists, giving them the chance to explore a little still, with their eyes if not with their hands.

 

*

 

“I don’t want us to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Bernie kept her voice soft, feeling like she might completely sink in the mattress and the woman’s embrace, more relaxed than she had been in months. ‘Wendy’ had nodded in agreement, in thanks, Bernie wasn’t sure. She couldn’t repress a moan when they kissed again, pressing her thighs together in an attempt to quieten the heat pooling there. They kept their kisses light, foreheads pressed together.

 

Used as she was to struggle to get to sleep, Bernie didn’t fight when her eyes fluttered, her breathing evening out as she fully relaxed into the mattress.

**Author's Note:**

> *author tiptoes away, snickering*


End file.
